


No Ordinary Love

by SeveredWing



Category: From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drug Withdrawal, F/M, Profanity, Richard Gecko & Santanico Pandemonium friendship, Slow Romance, Supernatural Creatures, begins Seth Gecko & Kate Fuller, slow burn to Seth Gecko/Kate Fuller
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-01-25 13:54:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12533048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeveredWing/pseuds/SeveredWing
Summary: When intel on Malvado reveals that he has acquired a weapon that will shift the balance of power among not only the lords and the culebra world, but the human world as well, Richie and Santanico alter their plans in order to intercept the weapon. What they think will be a simple heist, turns into a discovery of a lifetime and opens a door to a world far more ancient and extraordinary than anything they could have imagined.





	1. Two Geckos Are Better Than One

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy this! It has been a long time coming. It has been ages since my last story, and to say I was a bit nervous posting this would be an understatement. All my thanks and love to my best friend and Empress, isflamma, who keeps me going with much-needed encouragement and the occasional royal decree. 
> 
> Comments are always welcomed and greatly appreciated. They do wonders for my muse, who can be quite fickle.
> 
> Regrettably, I am not a fast writer, so updates will be slow, BUT I do write every day and I will do my best to post at a steady pace. I hope this doesn't deter you from sticking with the story. Ah! My nerves are showing! Deep breaths, girl.

Driving through the Mexican desert, at the best of times, is tedious and uneventful. Even when the sun is ablaze, the scenery is sparse and monochromatic, the towns few and far between with little to catch the eye. Imagine it now at night with only the focused rays of the car's headlights to illuminate the lone strip of highway ahead. All else is pitched in darkness. Santanico leans her head back against the headrest and looks out the window. The clear sky displays the stars in a beautiful array seldom seen in populated areas. The moon is absent, preparing for a new cycle. A traffic sign zooms by. Monterrey, 200 kilometers. Approximately 100 kilometers to a dingy, one-story motel outside of Los Herrera. At the speed Richie is pushing the Charger, they will be there in no time. She drums her nails on her arm rest, releases an exasperated sigh, and turns her head to face Richie.

“I still think this is a bad idea.” Richie glances at her quickly before returning his eyes to the road.  
“We don't have a choice and whether we like it or not, Uncle Eddie is right. We can't pull this off without Seth.”  
“He will not be pleased to see us.”  
“No, he will not. My bet is on 'Fuck off' or 'Go to hell'.”  
“What do you think of the rumour of a woman traveling with him?” Richie cracks a smirk.  
“Doesn't surprise me. Seth never has difficulties where women are concerned. They flock to him like moths to a flame.” The smirk disappears and his tone takes on a more serious edge. “And Seth doesn't do well on his own.” Santanico gives Richie's free hand a gentle squeeze, to which his eyes flit momemtarily to the side, and returns her attention to the fleeting landscape. 

And Seth doesn't do well on his own.

Santanico mulls Richie's words over in her mind and thinks to herself, neither does Richie. As much as she may have disagreed initially with Uncle Eddie, she now has to admit the most obvious of truths. Two Geckos are better than one.

 

**1 week earlier**

Richie pulls into the parking lot of Fast Eddie's Colour TV Repair with a cool exterior of slicked back hair and dark shades, but inwardly fighting off a swarm of butterflies. It's been years since he has visited his uncle and much has gone down since then: Seth's botched Houston job, his incarceration, Richie's self-imposed exile outside Emporia. For all his intelligence, he has no idea what will happen once he walks through the door. He pulls off the sunglasses and puts on his signature horn-rimmed before exiting the car. He strides across the parking lot and raps on the door. Bouncing anxiously from foot to foot as the sun beats down on him, he swipes away wisps of smoke rising from his suit coat. The door opens abruptly and Richie plasters a grin on his face. His uncle stands stoically in front him.

“Uncle Eddie!” Eddie continues to remain still for a second or two, regarding his nephew under raised eyebrows, then backs away, forcing Richie to grab the door before it closes on him. The older man moves to stand behind the counter, and begins to punch keys on the cash register until it dings open. Confused over his uncle's silence, Richie approaches the counter and lets out a weak chuckle.

“It's me!” Eddie replies by throwing a receipt onto the counter. Richie picks it up.

“What's this?”  
“A receipt..for two headstones and two plots I squared away this morning. Just a matter of time before the Rangers sent me your bodies. I called in a lot of favours to get you a nice spot, on a hill. You can see the Mother Bayou and everything. It's beautiful.” Richie's grin fades and a look of sympathy animates his features. It never occured to him when he was plotting his and Seth's demise what effect it would have on his uncle. The guilt washes over him, crashing tenfold as Eddie describes the aftermath of Richie's staged car crash.

“You owe me six grand.” Richie nods his head and pulls his wallet from inside his suit coat. Eddie's eyes soften as he watches his nephew count the bills inside.

“Get over here, you stupid, gullible son of a bitch!” He walks out from behind the counter and embraces Richie in a fierce hug, his nephew's face breaking into an enormous smile as he pats his uncle on his back. Richie can't help but think that it is, indeed, good to see his uncle again. Eddie pulls back with a quizzical look on his face.

“Goddamn, what's that smell?” he asks. Richie is quick to reply.  
“Too much Mexican.” Eddie steps past Richie and makes his way towards his living quarters at the back of the store, Richie following close behind. A cursory glance of the place reveals that nothing has changed.  
“Fiery car crash? Only that HAL-9000 brain of yours could have worked it out. I got to tell you.” Eddie stops and turns to Richie. “All that shit's just a movie trope. It does not work in the real world. Even if you do burn the bodies.” Richie's eyes take on a mischievous glint, and a wicked smile curves his lips.  
“It does if you match the dental work.”  
“Aaah. Open the pod bay doors, baby.” Eddie walks over to a table butted against the kitchen counter and busys himself while Richie plants himself on the top of a leather chair nearby.  
“Please tell me you're here to share some of that cool 30 million with your dear old Uncle Eddie.”  
“We lost it. Our fence wasn't on the up-and-up.”  
“I can hook you and your brother up. Where is Seth anyway?”  
“I don't know.” Eddie turns his attention to Richie who stares composedly back at him. Richie prays to whatever gods will listen that Eddie doesn't pursue the matter further. It's a conversation he is not entirely prepared to have, not yet, maybe not ever. Several silent, tense-filled seconds pass like several years until Eddie breaks the silence.  
“That's smart too. Stay separated. That way they can't put you together in case one of you get caught.” Richie casts his eyes down, swallowing the truth and the guilt of his separation from his brother.  
“I'll make a cup of Joe. You want some?”  
“No, thanks.”  
“What's the matter? You afraid it'll keep you up all night?” The left side of Richie's mouth curves up in a devilish smirk.  
“I'm up all night anyways.”  
“This ain't no mountain grown shit.” Eddie hefts the bag of coffee beans in his hand for emphasis. “These are magic beans from Indo-fucking-nesia. Got a funny way of picking them over there. They got these monkeys that run around eating all the red berries off the trees. The beans move through their digestive tract, supposed to add flavour. Then they sell the shit to fools like me that got nothing better to do than perfect their brew.” Richie stands and walks over to his uncle while he extols the unique harvesting practices for Kopi Luwak.  
“I gotta tell you, might come out of the poop chute, but you get hints of vanilla, all-spice, forest floor. It's good shit.” Richie cringes.  
“I'm gonna pass.” Eddie inhales the aroma from his coffee before taking a sip, savoring its rich flavour like a fine vintage. He walks over to the chair and reclines into its deep cushions. Richie decides this is the time to take control of the conversation.

“There's a job I've been planning, high risk, high payout. I'm putting the crew together and you immendiately came to mind. You interested?” Eddie sets down his coffee mug, placing all his focus on Richie.  
“You're planning a score?”  
“Yeah.”  
“What's the mark?” Richie hesitates. He and Santanico agreed that Richie should reveal as little as possible of their true goal, but he knows that if he remains too vague regarding the plan, Uncle Eddie will balk at his offer.  
“Not a what. A who. A Mexican kingpin named Amancio Malvado.” Eddie releases a drawn out whistle.  
“You weren't kidding about the high risk. Why him?”  
“Why not?”  
“What's your play?” Richie pauses again and his uncle senses that his nephew is taking too much time and care in choosing what can be said and what cannot. His patience begins to thin, but he continues to give Richie the benefit of the doubt.  
“Simple in and out. I can't go into greater detail yet. I'm still gathering intel, but trust me when I say it is well worth the risk.”  
“Who do you have on your crew so far?” More hesitation from Richie.  
“If you say you're in? You, me, and a woman with personal insight and knowledge of Malvado.” Eddie shakes his head.  
“Three people? For a high stakes job? No way. We need Seth. Where's your brother? He still in Mexico?” That's all Richie needs to hear for the pain and frustration from years in Seth's shadow to come spilling out. He paces wildly back and forth.  
“I knew it! I fucking knew it! Why do I even bother? You don't think I can do anything without him and you never did!” Eddie quickly rises from the chair and grabs ahold of Richie's forearm, turning him to face him. He looks him dead in the eye.  
“Wait a second! It's not that at all. You and your brother, you're the best I've ever seen. The best! He's the ace. You're the wild card. Together you make a beautiful hand.” Richie yanks his arm away, adjusts and smooths his suit coat, and straightens to his full height.  
“Things changed in Mexico. I got the edge now. I'm a new man.”  
“And I'm an old one!” shouts Eddie, pointing a finger at his nephew, “Let me tell you something, Richard. Life is shorter than you think. You go around burning bridges, you're going to end up all alone on an island like me.” Eddie sighs, his face fallen in dejection, and walks over to his chair. He picks up his empty mug, goes to the kitchen, and begins to gather and wash what few dishes are within his arm's reach. Richie's eyes follow him, his bearing a little less inflated. He doesn't want to leave things this way. He walks into the kitchen and leans against the counter near where Eddie is working, his shoulders slumped, his tone contrite.

“Even if I knew where Seth was, he's more likely to shoot me than to speak to me. I did the leaving in Mexico.” Eddie stops washing the dishes, his attention remaining on the trails of soap bubbles snaking their way to the drain. Richie takes his uncle's stillness as a cue to continue.

“There was a woman, is a woman. She needs my help. I left Seth to go with her. At the time, I thought it was the right thing to do, to break out on my own.”  
“And now?” Richie runs a hand through his hair, loosening a few gelled strands to fall to frame his face.  
“I promised I would help her. I intend to keep that promise.”  
“And what about your brother? Hmm?” Eddie turns to face Richie. The muscles in his jaw are tense with a mixture of anger and frustration. “What about him? This woman, this new partner of yours, is she worth abandoning Seth in Mexico?” Richie stands bolt upright from his place at the counter, his hands facing outward in front of him.  
“Now wait a minute! I did not abandon Seth. That isn't how-” Eddie takes a step to stand nose to nose with his nephew, his eyes boring deep into Richie's.  
“You can paint this in whatever shade of bullshit you want, but when it comes down to it, you left your brother behind in Mexico! And for some woman you knew for less than 24 hours. You abandoned your family!” Eddie backs off, his posture less confrontational, the anger disspelled.  
“This woman. Is she the one on your crew?”  
“Yes.”  
“And you trust her?” The first word that comes to mind is no. Santanico is a survivor. She will do whatever is in her best interest. That being said, he has noticed a difference in her since her release from the Twister. He just hasn't decided whether it is a change for the worse or better.

“I trust her with what needs to be done. She wants this plan to succeed as much as I do.” Eddie rubs the back of his neck, kneading hard into the muscle, and releases a deep sigh.  
“Alright. I'll help you, but only if Seth is on the crew.” Richie opens his mouth to protest or to agree; Eddie doesn't give him a chance to voice his opinion.  
“I don't want to hear any shit, Richard. If this job is as high risk as you say, we need the Gecko brothers. Plain and simple. I'm sure you've got the contacts to track him down.” Richie remains silent, his eyes downcast, his hands nervously tugging at his shirt cuffs. Uncle Eddie is right. He has the contacts and if he doesn't, Santanico does. They could probably have Seth's location in less than a week, if they were lucky. He looks up at his uncle.

“Ok. I'll find him.”

 

The motel is just as Santanico imagined it: peeling paint bleached by the sun, a lighted neon sign with two letters out, the word vacancy blinking underneath, an emptied pool, and sparse vegetation. They park next to a beat up old muscle car that has seen better days, only one of three cars in the lot. Richie is sure it belongs to Seth, given his affinity for the make and model. He turns off the car, and leans back in his seat, releasing a pent up sigh. Santanico returns to drumming her fingers on the arm rest. They stare straight ahead at the door numbered seven.  
“No matter how we approach this,” Richie says, “the result is going to be the same. Hostile.”  
“Then we do what normal people do.” Santanico looks squarely at Richie. “Knock on the door and say hello.”  
“Seeing you might piss him off all the more. Maybe -”  
“Richard, don't you dare ask me to wait in the car. I am as much a part of this as you.”  
“Alright. Let's go.” They exit the Charger and walk up to the door. Richie wastes no time in knocking, preferring to get this painful reunion over and done with. Thin walls and heightened senses allow them to pick up a heated exchange in hushed tones, a man and woman. Judging from his choice of words and his penchant for speechifying, the man is obviously Seth, but the woman...Richie wonders if, perhaps, his hearing is playing a trick on him. They hear rushed footfalls and cursing. The metal cracking of the blinds being pulled apart catches their attention, but the peeking figure is gone before Richie and Santanico can identify them. The locks on the door are undone, but before they can utter the word hello, they're looking down the muzzle of a .38 Special, Seth's expression stone cold and most unwelcoming. Richie doesn't flinch and stares him down.

“Hello, brother.”  
“Fuck off, Richard.”


	2. The Ace and Wild Card

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard and Seth's reunion is less than cordial, and Richie is reunited with a familiar face.

The reception from his brother was anticipated right down to his candid turn of phrase and the gun pointed at Richie's forehead. What catches him by surprise is the young woman standing several paces behind Seth. Her eyes wide, her mouth open in stunned silence, she holds a small handgun aimed steadily at Richie's heart. It seems his hearing is just fine.

“Kate,” he says, his tone reminiscent of their time poolside at the Dew Drop Inn. She slowly lowers the gun, tucks it into her waistband a la Gecko style, and takes a step towards the door. But when she catches sight of Santanico standing off to the side, she hurries to a small desk cluttered with empty beer and tequila bottles, crumpled slips of paper, and unfinished food and fishes out a hand hewn stake. She rushes the door, stake raised shoulder-height preparing to push past the Geckos straight to her intended target, but Seth stops her with his free hand.

“Whoa, Kate,” Seth says, “Put on the brakes. We don't want to draw attention to ourselves. Besides, they're not going to be around long enough to kill.”  
“Seth, please-”  
“I'm sorry?” Seth raises his hand to his ear. “Did you say something? I could have sworn you were talking like I give a fuck what you have to say.” He lowers his gun, but remains firmly planted in the doorway. “Leave, Richard. And take your queen bitch with you.” Santanico rolls her eyes, unamused and bored with Seth's combative manner. She tries the reins.

“We have a proposition for you.”  
“Not interested.”  
“You don't even know what it is.”  
“Don't care.”  
“You won't even hear us out? You'd prefer to remain in this cagadero?”  
“Cagadero, sweet cagadero. Right, Kate?” Richie looks over Seth's shoulder at Kate and her expression gives him pause. It's subtle. Richie doubts Seth would even notice, but to Richie it speaks volumes.

Hope.

She's been quiet since their arrival, likely still in shock to see them at their door, or realizing that trying to get a word in edgewise would be a lesson in futility. But Richie gets a clear sense from her that, after all this time, she needs more than what Seth has to offer. A perfunctory look about the motel room and it is obvious that they are scraping by. Seth may be content to remain here in this shit house, but Kate is not. Richie sees a way in.

“Seth, let us come in. Give us five minutes. I guarantee this is worth your while.” Richie's words are directed at his brother, but his gaze remains on Kate. She's quick to pick up his cue.

“Seth. It can't hurt to give them a listen. What's five minutes?” Seth stares her down, pissed that his authority is being challenged, but Kate doesn't flinch. Three months with the older Gecko has taught her to give as good as she gets. An opportunity is being presented here, one that could potentially benefit them. She couldn't just let Seth turn it away out of spite or his infuriating Gecko pride. Besides, regardless of what brought them here, Seth has the chance to reconcile with his little brother, something Kate would give her heart and soul to be able to do with Scott.

Seth grudgingly backs away and allows Richie and Santanico to enter. Richie takes a long, hard look around and immediately deduces three things. One, Seth looks like shit: his hair has grown out in wild tufts; he has a full-on beard, unkempt and scraggly; he has dark circles under his eyes, likely from lack of sleep; and he's lost some weight, probably from a lack of real food and an almost constant liquid diet. Two, Kate is no longer the sheltered preacher's daughter he remembers. She stands taller, confident, strong, and in control. Given the state his brother is in, Richie is convinced it is a role she was thrust into whether she was prepared for it or not. His eyes trail to his third deduction; on the bedside table, next to an empty whiskey bottle, is a small, brown leather case. The flap is open and poking out halfway is a syringe. He doesn't need three guesses to know what it is. It explains why his brother looks like a shell of the man he used to be and it hits Richie that their separation was harder on his older brother than he ever could have conceived. 

Santanico doesn't conceal her look of disgust at the condition of the motel room as she glances around for a place to sit. For the moment, Kate swallows her anger towards the culebra queen and decides to play the gracious hostess. She wipes a chair clean and offers it to her, which la diosa accepts reluctantly, her posture allowing as little of her body to make contact with the chair as possible. Seth notices.

“Sorry this place doesn't meet your standards, your highness.” Santanico rolls her eyes to look at Richie.  
“Can we get this over with, please?” she asks.  
“Yes, Richard,” says Seth, “You're five minutes started the second you walked in the door. What do you want, because that's why you're here, right? You want something.”  
“As a matter of fact, we do,” replies Richie coolly, “We need the Gecko brothers. We need you.” Richie's eyes move to Kate. He recalls how steady she held her pistol, the ease with which she tucked it into her pants, the curvature of hard muscle through her t-shirt when she had the stake drawn back to strike. He glances at Santanico before making an executive decision.

“Kate, we could use a fighter like you as well.” Richie ignores the annoyed huff from Santanico.  
“Thanks, Richie,” she says, “But we still haven't heard anything about why you two are here. Not really.”  
“And your five minutes are almost up,” adds Seth.  
“Fine. For the past three months, Santanico and I have been staking out possible leads to Amancio Malvado's headquarters.”  
“Let me guess.” Seth looks to Santanico. “He's the lord that locked your ass up?” She glares back at him and doesn't dignify his question with an answer beyond a simple nod.

“Recently, something has surfaced about him, something major, that affects not only culebras, but humans too. It's too big to ignore so, for the time being, Santanico and I have altered our plans in order to deal with it.” Seth and Kate stare at Richie, their expressions indicating they are expecting Richie to elaborate, but he doesn't continue.

“That's it?” says Seth, “That's all you're going to give us? Some vague bullshit about culebras and humans and this lord and nothing else? Yeah, I don't think so. You need to fill in some pretty damn big blanks before I – we - even remotely consider what you're asking. But guess what? Your five minutes are up.” Seth begins to walk towards the door, but Kate blocks his way.

“What do you think you're doing, princess?”  
“You can't kick them out yet. Not until we hear more.” She emphasizes the last two words, shifting her gaze from Seth to Richie. Seth follows her line of sight and stares daggers at his brother.  
“I can kick them out whenever I fucking feel like it.”  
“Seth, please. He said it would be worth our while.”  
“Then he better start talking. Now.” Seth takes a step towards his little brother. Richie's countenance remains self-assured, his stance unintimidated, but despite his preternatural power, his heart remembers the fear his brother can instill and it emits a single beat. Santanico, who has been picking at her fingernails, hears the weak and unfamiliar sound, and her head snaps up to look at him. She remembers that lately he has been forced on occasion to wear his glasses. Now a heartbeat. As much as Richard has embraced his culebra nature, a part of him still rallies against it. The fact that these human vestiges are able to break through one of her offspring Santanico believes is a testament to Richard's strength in life as well as death.

“Malvado has a plan that will shift the balance of power in his favour not only among the Nine Lords and culebras, but humans as well. We're talking all of Texas and Mexico and that's just the beginning.”  
“How? What's his play?”  
“A weapon. An ancient weapon.”  
“What kind of weapon? A slingshot? A bow and arrow? A musket?”  
“We don't know the design, but we do know it has the capability to raze an entire city to the ground, destroy its population with fire.”  
“That sounds like a nuke to me.”  
“What are you deaf? I told you, it's ancient. Hidden for centuries somewhere in Europe. He's procured it and has arranged its transport to the States.”  
“And you believe this shit.”  
“I have acquired this intel from a dozen different sources, culebra and human alike, and it all checks out.”  
“And what's your plan? Steal it?”  
“Yeah.” Seth's face turns to stone. His brother can't possibly be serious. Steal a weapon? No. No way. And he wants to drag him and Kate into it? Fuck that. They are not going to die trying to prevent a snake war. Let them die for all he cares.

“No.”  
“What do you mean no?”  
“Did I stutter, Richard? No! The answer is no. We're not going to die for your new snake family.”  
“Has the heroin affected your hearing? Or did you not hear me say this concerns humans too, not just culebras.”  
“Fuck you, Richard.”  
“Fuck you, Seth.”  
“Hey! Knock it off, you two!” Kate interrupts. “Your incessant need to argue isn't going to get us anywhere.”  
“That's right, princess, because we're not going anywhere. Not with these two. Not on some suicide mission.”  
“It's not a suicide mission. Do you really think I would be doing this if there wasn't a high chance of success? I have it all planned out. We just need a crew.”  
“You don't have a crew?” Richie shifts his weight from one foot to another. A nervous behaviour dating back to childhood. Seth doesn't fail to notice.  
“Not a complete one.”  
“Who do you have?” Another shift.  
“Santanico, myself...and Uncle Eddie, but only if you agree to it.” Seth's anger is barely contained.  
“You asked Uncle Eddie? Why?!”  
“Because I need his expertise. Just like I need yours.” Seth paces in the small space allotted between the bed and the table, his hand ruffling his mass of black hair over and over. His head feels like it's going to split in two. How can Richie involve their uncle? Eddie isn't yet an elderly man, shuffling across the floor with a walker with tennis balls on it, but he isn't a young man either and it has been at least a decade since he last pulled a job. Now Richie comes along and asks him to join his crew for a job doing what? Did he even tell him the truth? Or a slim version of it? This entire situation is one big fuck up. Seth has had it. He strides towards the door and opens it wide, gesturing with his hand in one smooth, sweeping arc.

“Out you go. Nice to see you again, brother. Don't be a stranger, but next visit, come alone.” Richie doesn't move. Santanico remains seated, her hands folded neatly in her lap. Kate looks from Seth to Richie back to Seth, whose face is contorting with rage. He storms over to Richie, grabs him roughly by the lapels, and drags him towards the door. Richie does not resist.

“I said go!” he bellows, “Get the fuck out of here!” Seth's just about to toss his little brother out, when Richie latches on to the door frame and stops him. With his culebra strength, and despite Seth's best efforts, he is immovable.

“Please, Seth,” he says calmly, “At least consider coming back with us. That's what you want, isn't it? To get back to the States?” Kate pipes up at the mention of going home.

“Yes! That's what we want.”  
“Shut up, Kate.” Seth's anger finds a new target.  
“No!” she bites back. “We can't live like this anymore! I want to go home!”  
“So, you'll make a deal with these devils to do it?!”  
“Consider it a peace offering,” says Santanico, “We'll get you across the border and in exchange you will listen to Richie's plan for Malvado.” Richie flashes a smile. Beauty and brains, he thinks to himself. She had risen from the chair while they had been bickering, vigourously brushing off her trousers of whatever filth she imagined had taken up residence on them. Now she stands with her arms crossed, looking every bit as impatient as she probably feels and more so, looking at each one of them in turn.

“Well? Do we have an agreement?” Kate looks at Seth, her eyes glassy with unshed tears as they plead for him to listen. He can only meet her unflinching gaze for a few seconds before directing his attention towards the scuffed linoleum floor. He knows she wants him to say yes. Hell, he wants to say yes. Three months of small time heists and grifting have done nothing more than help them eke out the basest of existence, never leaving enough to stash away for new identities and passports.

Seth lifts his eyes to Kate's. He owes her so much. This is the least he can do.

“Alright. We'll take you up on your offer,” Seth says, then clarifies, “To get back to the States. Not your fucked up heist. Not yet, anyway.” Before he can gage his baby brother's reaction, Kate throws her arms around Seth's neck, locking him in an ardent embrace. Seth has little choice, but to return her hug, his arms holding her firmly around her midsection. Richie can't help but notice tentative touches of intimacy between the two: Kate's slender fingers teasing Seth's hair at the nape of his neck; her face pressed against his collarbone, eyes closed; his brother's hands pulling Kate's shirt taut with the force of his grip; his cheek resting against her head. The whole display makes Richie wonder how deep their relationsip has developed.

Seth senses his brother's scrutiny and pulls abruptly away from Kate. Gaining her composure, she avoids eye contact with them and scurries over to a black duffle bag set upon a dresser, and begins to shove toiletries and scattered bits of clothing unceremoniously into it. Seth grabs a second duffle off of a table and loads it with stakes and gun paraphenalia. Richie and Santanico exchange looks.

“We'll wait for you in the car,” says Richie and they exit the room, leaving Seth and Kate to finish packing in awkward silence.

Not long after, they walk out of the motel room, Seth toting the duffle bags, Kate locking the door behind them. She glances over at the black Dodge, at Richie's tall frame leaning against the driver's side door, dressed in his traditional black suit while Santanico stands dauntlessly next to him, her petite form clad in leather from head to toe. Such a stunning pair, she thinks to herself. Cunning and lethal. She's jolted from her musings by Richie popping the trunk for Seth and hurries off to the front office to check out. Seth throws the bags in the trunk and slams it shut. He walks over to the passenger door where Santanico is leaning against the side of the car, waiting to let him in.

“Do you wish to sit next to your brother?” she asks.  
“No thanks, your royalness. He's all yours.” Seth ducks into the back seat and slides over to sit behind the driver. Several minutes later, Kate joins him. He looks at Kate as the Charger roars to life and Richie backs out of the parking space. She's keeping her attention focused out the window, whether she is ignoring him or simply lost in her own thoughts, Seth cannot tell. The reflection cast in the window reveals a expressionless ghost of pale skin and features lost in shadow. Kate, herself, is doing her best to mask the elation she feels at the fact that she is on her way home. But returning to the States forces to the forefront questions she has been able to avoid until now. Will she return to Bethel? Try to build some semblance of a normal life? Or will she search for Scott? If so, where will she even begin?

And what about Seth?

She turns her head to look at him and catches him looking at her, but he doesn't turn away and neither does she. In those few brief seconds, before he does look away, Kate realizes that deep within her, where lies cannot follow and only truth flourishes, she does not want to live a life that does not include Seth Gecko.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter within in a week? A miracle! My muse is not usually this prolific. I hope you enjoyed it! It's a little longer than the last one, but still shorter than I planned. It just seemed like a good place to stop. My apologies if I have strayed into OOC territory. I'm trying my best to keep them as close to the way they are portrayed, but it's a constant worry of mine that they are not. 
> 
> Many thanks to all those who left comments and kudos. They are very much appreciated and keep my muse happy.
> 
> Lots of love and thanks to Empress isflamma for the encouragement and anxiety control. I don't know what I would do without you.


	3. Home, Sweet Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seth and Kate take Richie up on his offer to get them back to the States for the price of listening to his plan for Malvado. Once back in Houston, Seth is immediately faced with the challenge of getting clean.

Kate wishes she can say the ride back to the States is simply long and boring, that everyone stays in their respective corners and behaves themselves, but that would have been too much to expect. The tension between Richie and Seth smothers any attempt at polite conversation. Whenever Kate tries, she is either met with a snarky remark from Seth or a past transgression dredged up by Richie. Inevitably, an argument will break out between the brothers. At times, Kate is sure it will become physical, but before it can escalate, Santanico will intervene and the guys will back off. If Kate has learned one thing about la diosa on this ride, it is she is extremely adept at quashing quarrels.

The border crossing goes smoothly. Richie and Santanico have a man on the Border Patrol who they pay handsomely for passage, smuggling, and occasional information. He barely looks into the car before waving them on. Richie's lead foot has them barreling north up US-59 and in less than six hours, the lights of the Houston skyline can be seen. Kate is expecting them to head straight for Uncle Eddie's home, but Richie turns onto an exit ramp on the outskirts of the city. Soon they are driving through an industrial area. Buildings loom on either side of them, nondescript and dark, with gated parking lots crowned with barbed wire to guard their fleet of tractor trailers. He makes a series of turns until businesses give way to derelict warehouses and empty lots.

Several minutes tick by and they eventually slow in front of a warehouse, one of a few in the neighbourhood that has all their windows intact. Richie comes to a complete stop in front of a sizable garage door, removes an automatic door opener out of the glove box, and opens it. They pull in and park, the door screeching close behind them, overhead fluorescent lights flickering on automatically. Kate thinks to herself how they won't need them for much longer. Dawn is approaching, the sun's yellow rays breaking over the horizon, the pale beams stretching over the surrounding roofs. 

Richie shuts off the engine and they file out of the car one by one. Kate looks around and can't believe what she sees. In the center of the warehouse, which is easily two to three stories in height and 40,000 square feet in size, is an arrangement of household furniture, styled according to room, and designed much like Santanico's boudoir in the Twister. Set up several yards away is a work space with a commercial delivery truck parked to the side. Kate is stunned; the warehouse is their home. Richie walks over to her.

“What do you think?”  
“It's...impressive, but don't the windows pose a signifcant problem?”  
“Not really. With us set up in the middle, the sun never reaches the living area.”  
“Fascinating, Bela, but why are we here? I thought we were headed to Uncle Eddie's.” Heaven forbid she have a normal, amicable discussion without Seth butting in.  
“I'm not taking you anywhere near Uncle Eddie looking like Josey Wales. He'd have a shit fit and you know it. No Eddie until you're clean.”  
“Fine. Where's your shower?”  
“You know what I mean, Seth.” Richie stands his ground as his big brother steps toe to toe, eye to eye with him.  
“What if I don't want to? Hmm? Are you going to force me, Richard?”  
“Damn right I am.”  
“And he won't be alone,” adds Santanico, “We need you at your best and right now? You are not.”  
“And we don't have the time to do this by conventional means.”  
“What did you have in mind, Richard? Tie me up?”  
“If that's what you're into,” says Santanico.  
“I have a better idea.” Richard leads them over to a cage constructed out of chain link fencing obscured from view by the truck. Kate fears where this is heading.

“Richie, you can't be thinking of-”  
“Locking him up? Yes, that's exactly what I'm thinking.” Richie looks over Seth from head to toe. The physical symptoms of withdrawal began presenting themselves on the car ride back: cold sweats, increased tearing, runny nose, sneezing, and yawning. By Richie's calculations, that means it's been at least twelve hours since Seth's last fix. Soon the worst of the symptoms will start to appear, peaking around the second or third day: nausea, vomiting, bone aches, tremors, abdominal cramping, and diarrhea. Richie can handle that. This is not his first rodeo. What will test him, and Kate, will be the psychological symptoms: insomnia, restlessness, anxiety, cravings, agitation, fatigue, and difficulty concentrating. Withdrawal can sink Seth into a cycle of depression and anxiety severe enough for him to become self-destructive. A sense of desperation may set in that can cause him to make decisions that go against his moral code. Even after his body is rid of the heroin, he and Kate will have to keep a close eye on him.

Kate.

Richie has no idea what this will do to her. It's heartbreaking watching a loved one succumb to addiction, but it tears at the soul to witness them go through withdrawal. Kate appears to be stronger than when he had last seen her at the Twister, but the strength needed to battle culebras and rob cheque-cashing stores is not the same as the strength needed to witness the one you love suffer their way back to the person they once were. Kate clearly cares for Seth. That much Richie can see. But does she love him? Perhaps Richie is reading too much into the shared embrace in Mexico. These next few weeks will be quite revealing. 

He watches Seth enter the cage, shaking the chain link, testing it's strength. Kate walks in after him, her eyes roving over the structure with a mix of horror and fascination. 

“So, what's the plan, brother? Are you going to nurse me back to health in this?” Kate walks over to Seth and slips her hand into his.  
“ _We_ are going to nurse you back.”  
“No.” Kate pulls her hand away and steps back. Seth's voice is like steel. She knows this tone. Kate's heard it many times before.  
“No?”  
“No. I can handle Richie playing nursemaid, but you? I don't...I don't want you to see me like that.” Kate bristles at his words.  
“Fuck you, Seth! You didn't seem to have any concerns about me being around when you were shooting that poison into your veins, but now, at the chance of me being able to help you get clean, you tell me no?!”  
“Excuse me if I don't warm to the idea of you seeing me piss and shit myself while I lie in a fetal position like a fucking baby!”  
“Let me help you!”  
“You already have!” Kate gasps so quietly it could have been mistaken for a whisper. Seth has divulged more about their relationship in those three words than he has in three months, and has left her with so many questions. But they will have to wait for another time when she can garner the courage to ask them. The argument is over. For now. Kate leaves the cage and asks Richie to open the trunk so she can retrieve her things. Richie obliges and they walk over to the Charger together. Seth stands in the middle of the cage, head bowed down as he rubs the back of his neck. It feels like his spine is trying to burrow out of his body. His shirt and undershirt stick uncomfortably to his skin from sweating and he has the chills. If they are going to do this, they need to do it now.

“Fuck,” he mumbles to himself. He looks up at Santanico, who is standing at the door of the cage. She stares back at him with a look of complete indifference.

“Make whatever arrangements need to be made for your little in-house detox clinic. I'll do it.”

 

Santanico sets Kate up in the “guest room”, a full-size canopy bed manufactured of wrought iron hung with draperies sewn from damask fabric, a matching dresser with mirror and bedside table, a pair of lamps with faux Tiffany shades, and an armchair upholstered in the same material as the drapes, all neatly arranged on top of a Persian rug. Kate drops her duffle in front of the dresser and plops down on the bed, kicking off her shoes in the process. The duvet and linens are in the same deep shade of plum as the drapes and chair. She feels like she's been transported to a luxury hotel. All that's missing is the towel shaped as a swan and a mini bar. She shouldn't be surprised, really. Kate can't imagine Santanico settling for anything less than the finest quality, even when it comes to her guests. Her eyes shift towards the direction of the cage. That is to be Seth's room for however long it takes for the heroin to clear his system. She hates the thought, but knows it needs to be done. And fuck whatever Seth says, she's going to help Richie care for him. After all, he'll be in no condition to stop her.

Somewhere among the layout of furniture, a clock chimes eight. Kate is exhausted. She imagines the others are too. She stands and unties the draperies surrounding the canopy bed, noticing the heavy lining to prevent light from penetrating them. Kate chuckles to herself. Makes sense, especially for a vampire. Shower be damned, she pulls the drapes closed and undresses to her tank and underwear, letting her clothes fall to the floor in a heap next to her shoes. She crawls under the bedsheets and releases a contented sigh at the level of comfort cradling her after all the lumpy mattresses and filthy beds she's had to endure for the past three months. By the time the clock chimes quarter past, Kate is fast asleep. 

Seth, for the time being, sets himself up on the leather couch in the living room. Richie hands him a whiskey neat in a rocks glass before walking off towards his work space, his cell phone in hand. No words are exchanged, which is fine with Seth. He's said enough this morning. The unexpected reunion with his baby brother has stirred emotions in Seth he is unprepared to face. Right now he wants to fill his head with Richie's single malt and go to sleep, but that depends on if his body will let him. Its rebelling against its sobriety. His mind begs him for release, and his coping mechanism of choice is sitting at his feet in a little brown case inside his black duffle, mixed in with stakes and boxes of ammunition. He reaches down and pulls out the case, turning it over in his hands. One more fix. That's all he needs.

But does he really?

Oblivion was the only place that spared Seth the pain of being separated from Richie, that dulled the anger and betrayal he felt from being rejected by his own blood. It blanked out the dismal motel rooms and dusty roads and unfamiliar faces that had become the norm for him. It carried away the echoes of Kate's quiet sobs and stern words and the ceaseless hope she had that she could save her brother. The slightest mention of Scott reminded Seth how much he missed Richie, and how he didn't fight hard enough for him back at the Twister. 

But now all those reasons are moot. Richie stands just a few meters from him, talking on his phone. He and Kate are back in the States. In a span of less than twelve hours, their fortunes have done a complete one eighty. If Seth plays his cards right, he can be back on top in no time. There's no more need for escape, no more reasons to hide in a chemical stupor. Seth keeps flipping the leather case over and over in his hands, lost so deep in thought that he doesn't hear Richie approach. 

“I've made the necesary arrangements. We'll be good to go by tonight.”  
“Swell.” Seth lifts his glass and gives it a shake. Richie walks over to a sideboard with dozens of liquor bottles ordered according to height. He grabs a bottle of amber liquid and walks back over to Seth, but before he pours him another glass, Richie holds out his other hand. Seth shakes his head and snickers. He takes one last look at the little brown case and slaps it hard into Richie's palm. As soon as his fingers close around it, Richie hands over the whiskey. Seth forgoes the glass and takes a swig from the bottle.

“Try to get some sleep.” Seth just smirks.  
“Yeah. I'll try.” Richie picks up the empty glass from the coffee table, walks over to a stainless steel sink attached to the wall near his work area, and washes it. Drying it to a crystal clear shine, he returns it to the sideboard. Seth smiles at what he jokingly refers to as Richie's “OCD-ness.” He guesses even in death habits die hard.

“Good night, Seth.”  
“Don't you mean 'good morning'?” Richie lets out a chuckle.  
“Yeah. I guess I do.” And with that, Richie walks across the living area and disappears behind a curtain.

 

Kate doesn't remember setting an alarm, but sure enough, blaring loud enough for the entire neighbourhood to hear is the unmistakable beeping of a digital clock. She pushes herself up on her elbows, rubs the sleep from her eyes, and peers around the room, wondering why the outside world is still dark. She leans over towards the direction of the bedside table and fumbles for the snooze button to silence the noise, but instead her fingertips brush against something smooth and silky. Woken from deep within a dream, Kate is disoriented and far from awake. She panics and thrashes about the bed covers until her body is free and begins to blindly wave her hands in front her. Eventually, her fingers catch the edge of a drape and a harsh ray of sunlight splits the black of the interior. She lets out a yelp and falls back among the covers. 

Kate is not a morning person. 

She peeks through the curtains at the grey steel walls and twelve foot tall windows and the past twenty four hours come flooding back to her. Richie and Santanico showed up at their motel room in Mexico and said they had a job for them. Several hours later they were across the border and pulling into a warehouse in Houston. 

She looks around to try and locate the source of the infuriating beeping that still persists throughtout the warehouse. Back towards the work space, a delivery truck is reversing through a second garage door that Kate failed to notice this morning when they arrived. The truck comes to a stop a meter or two from the cage and cuts the engine. A burly-set man wearing pale green surgical scrubs hops out of the cab and walks over to where Richie is waiting for him by the cage door. They shake hands and exchange pleasantries as they walk to the rear of the truck. Craning her neck, Kate cannot make out what the cargo is until the two men begin to unload it. First to be removed is a hospital bed, then a series of complex machines followed by bedpans, an IV stand, a sealed container simply labeled 'medical', linens, blankets, pillows – everything a patient would need in a hospital setting. Once they have it arranged and the machines up and running, the man begins to instruct Richie on their proper operation and maintenance. 

Kate bends down and plucks her clothes from the floor then ducks back behind the drapes to get dressed. Once finished, she combs her fingers through her bed head, and pulls back the curtains. Judging from the angle of the sun rays streaming through the windows, lighting the dust motes and turning the drab steel a brilliant white, it's late afternoon, around 4:00pm. Richie is concluding his business with the strange delivery man, so Kate decides to make her way to the living room which shares a border with her own. Seth is curled on the couch, his arms drawn up against his chest, his whole form shivering. Kate rushes to his side and kneels down next to him, placing her palm against his forehead. His brow is furrowed in fitful sleep and his skin is pallid and clammy. She does the math in her head and figures it's been more than a day since Seth's last injection. She didn't think the symptoms would show themselves so soon. She takes a deep breath. Keep it together, Fuller. Kate caresses his cheek lightly so as not to wake him and prays to God to give her the strength she will need these next few days. 

“It only takes twelve hours for withdrawal symptoms to surface.” Kate nearly jumps on top of Seth. She turns to look at Richie, who silently stands behind her.  
“Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you.” He sits down on the edge of the armchair opposite the couch, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped between his legs. He looks Kate straight in the eyes.  
“Are you ready for this?” Kate takes another deep breath.  
“I want to say yes, but I've never been through anything like this before, so I really can't answer with any degree of certainty. But I can tell you I will do my best and I will stay by his side, no matter what. I've come this far with him. I'm not about to go anywhere now.” Richie wants to ask her. It's on the tip of his tongue. Do you love him? But Seth once said to him that actions speak louder than words. Richie is positive that Kate's actions will say all he needs to know these coming days.

“You two picked a hell of a spot to have a chat.” Seth's voice is rough with sleep as he curls tighter upon himself.  
“Fuck, Richie. Don't you have any goddamn heaters in this place?”  
“I'll go get you some blankets.” Kate gets up and jogs towards the cage. The blankets are stacked neatly with the linen at the end of the unmade bed. She grabs two and heads back to Seth, who has decided to sit up. She unfolds a blanket and pauses. Her instinct is to drape it around his shoulders, tuck it high around his neck, and cross the ends over one another to cover him like her mother would have done with Kate or Scott when they were sick, but given Seth's reaction to the very idea of her helping him convalesce, she decides to simply hand him the blanket. He wraps himself up faster than Kate can unfurl the second one and give it to him. Seth looks towards the cage and sees the bed and equipment.

“I see my room is ready. A little overboard, don't you think?”  
“Better to be safe than sorry.”  
“Right.” Seth gets up, bundled like a mummy, and shuffles his way to the cage. Kate and Richie follow. He's already inside, standing next to the bed, pressing buttons and pulling levers causing the bed to lift and beep and whir. Richie quickly walks over and presses a red safety button, effectively shutting the whole thing down. 

“Please don't touch anything.” Seth looks at Richie like he snatched away his favourite toy. However, he behaves as he walks around, scrutinizing the equipment. He walks a circuit of the cage and stops in front of the bed. He pulls the blankets from his shoulders and lays them on the mattress.

“Well. Shall we get this ball rolling?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok. I know I said in my last set of notes that posting within a week was a miracle. So I have no idea what it means to post within a couple of days. I'm stunned. For those of you enjoying the story, think of it as a pleasant surprise. 
> 
> Thank you to those who commented and left kudos! You are the reason my muse is so happy!
> 
> Empress, you're the best!


	4. Erasing the Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seth goes through detox cold turkey with Richie and Kate by his side.

Kate's knowledge of drugs and addiction is limited to grade eight health class and Hollywood's depictions in film and TV. None of her friends used and she never had any desire to try. Which is why witnessing Seth go through withdrawal cold turkey is beyond anything she could have watched on a screen. Richie does his best to console her, although his big brain chooses facts and statistics rather than words of comfort and maybe a reassuring touch. She appreciates his attempts at making her feel better, and tries her best to return the favour, but Kate knows she will not find peace. Not until Seth does. 

**48 hours earlier**

“How long have you been using?”  
“Since shortly after you dumped my ass.”  
“Can you knock off the sarcasm for a fucking minute?”  
“Fine. Around two and a half months.”  
“How often did you use?”  
“Once. Maybe twice a day.”  
“What dose did you take?”  
“I don't know, Richard. Whatever it took to get the job done.”  
“I just want to have an idea of what to expect.”  
“Expect bad, alright?” Richie throws his hands in the air and walks over to the container marked “medical.” Inside, he digs out a blue patterned hospital gown and offers it to Seth. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?”  
“What?”  
“No way. Absolutely not. I am not going to have my ass exposed for all the world to see.”  
“Are you planning to parade down the streets of Houston? It's just Kate and I.” Kate's eyes widen and a blush warms her cheeks at the mention of her name and Seth's butt in the same conversation, so she decides to distract herself with making the hospital bed. As they continue to squabble over the practicality of the gown, Kate takes her time tucking the fitted sheet tight around the corners, smoothing the top sheet and blankets over the mattress until not a wrinkle can be seen, and making sure they hang at equal length on each side. She stuffs the pillow into its case, gives it a quick fluff, and places it at the head of the bed. She then piles the extra linen and blankets on one of two chairs placed in the room. Her task complete, she turns to face the brothers. Seth has stripped down to his white tank and boxers and is handing his black shirt and trousers over to Richie. The hospital gown lies balled up on the floor.

“Kate, do you mind filling that pitcher with ice water, please?” Richie nods towards an empty plastic pitcher sitting on the bedside table.  
“Sure. Um, where?”  
“The mini frig next to the bar. There's ice and bottled water.” Kate walks off in the direction of the living room.  
“Where's her highness? Isn't she participating in this little endeavour?” Richie avoids looking Seth in the eye.  
“She's...occupied elsewhere.”  
“In other words, she can't be bothered.”  
“More or less.”  
“Fine by me. The less the merrier.” Seth sits on the bed, bounces a little to test its firmness, and grimaces when it doesn't meet his expectations. He lifts his legs and slides them under the covers. The sheets are stiff and rough against his skin, bleached and starched to the point of discomfort, and the blankets feel like they've been woven from the scratchiest wool the manufacturer could find. Still, they are dry and clean which is more than can be said for the clothes he's wearing, damp and odorous from his sweat. Still, his smelly undergarments are far more preferable to the backless hospital gown. 

Seth surveys the items on his bedside table: a small, shaded lamp, a circular tray with a space for the missing pitcher and an upside down cup beside it, a box of tissues, a package of hand wipes, and an enamel basin with a set of towels stacked next to it. Seth grabs the tissues and lies down on the bed. The milder symptoms of withdrawal that began on the car ride are ever present now. His nose is running, his eyes are tearing, and it seems like he's sneezing with every inhalation of breath. His face has become a mess of tears, sweat and snot. He yanks one tissue after another out of the box, wipes his nose dry, then crumples the tissue into a ball, and tosses it on the floor. Richie frowns at Seth's disgusting behaviour and drops a waste basket next to the bed. 

Meanwhile, Kate returns with the pitcher of ice water. She turns the cup upright, fills it up, and sets it aside. She then bends over and, with dainty fingers, picks up Seth's discarded tissues and throws them in the trash. Kate continues to busy herself with unpacking the supply container while Richie and Seth watch in bemused silence. Seth has seen her act like this before, whenever thoughts of Jacob or Scott crept into her mind, her nesting instincts would kick in. She would straighten up the motel room, fold clothes, sharpen stakes, whatever would help to temporarily numb the loss of her father and brother. But the role she played to perfection was Seth's caretaker, the role she has seamlessly returned to now. 

She stacks the tissue boxes under the bedside table, then decides to free up the spare chair by moving the bed linens again. To do that, she needs to rearrange the supplies she unpacked on a folding table near the door. When she finishes and there is nothing left to unload or organize, she looks to Seth. Half covered and half naked, he's left vulnerable to the cool evening air flowing in through the warehouse windows. His body is shivering uncontrollably, the chills that have plagued him on and off since the night before have returned with a vengeance, breaking his skin out in goosebumps. Kate grabs another blanket and covers him up to his chin, folding the sheet neatly over its edge so the coarse material does not rub against him. 

Seth never takes his eyes off her as she works, committing to memory the rosy hue blooming high on her cheeks and the way she bites her bottom lip when deep in concentration. The way she tucks her hair behind her ears and the dark lashes that shadow her emerald eyes. His face softens with a wisp of a smile and it's then that Seth realizes that his callous attitude and insensitivity this morning was a lie. He's scared of what's to come. Terrified, and it's not Richie he wants by his side.

It's Kate. 

But will he say anything? No, because despite this revelation, Seth's pride continues to overshadow his heart. So, when Kate asks him if she can get him anything, Seth does what he does best.

“Yeah. You can leave.” The frown lines between Kate's eyebrows deepen in confusion. Did she do something wrong?  
“What?”  
“Leave. Go. Richie can handle things from here on out.”  
“But-”  
“I don't need you.” And there it is. His best performance yet. Seth ignores the wounded expression on Kate's face as she storms out of the cage. It's better this way, he tells himself. Nice and quick, like ripping a bandage from tender skin. He can feel Richie's eyes boring into him.

“Not a word, Richard. Not a fucking word. Make yourself useful and get me something to eat.” Richie shoots him one last disapproving look and walks out of the cage, padlocking the door behind him. Seth lets out a deep breath and winces at the pain the simple act of breathing brings. His condition is worsening. In addition to the chills, his legs and arms have begun to twitch and cramp. When they are not moving restlessly, they are seized in painful spasms. Seth suddenly finds the covers restricting and kicks them off, regretting his decision the second he feels the air hit his sweat-soaked skin. The chills set upon him again and he reaches for the blankets, pulling them up over his shoulders, trying to get warm. Already they are becoming cold and wet, sticking uncomfortably to his body, encasing him in an icy cocoon. Seth doesn't know which is worse. He lifts his head to see the pile of dry linen and wishes Richie, or Kate, would return to change his bed.

He doesn't have to wait long before Richie walks in holding a bed tray. On it is a small plate of whole grain spaghetti covered in some sort of green sauce and a salad of dark, leafy greens. 

“What the hell is that?”  
“Whole wheat pasta with avocado pesto.”  
“Are you trying to make this experience worse?”  
“Of course not. It's important you eat a high-fibre diet with plenty of complex carbohydrates. It will help make the risk of constipation and any problems you may have with your digestive system less severe. That's if you can keep it down. Has the nausea hit yet?  
“At the sight of this, yes.”  
“Eat what you can. I'll leave the tray here.” Richie sets the tray over Seth's legs and turns to leave.  
“Richie?”  
“Yeah?” How is Kate? Is she OK? The words dry up in Seth's throat.  
“Did you cook this?” Coward.  
“No. Ordered it from a local restaurant.”  
“Oh.”  
“I'll be back in a few minutes to check up on you.” Richie steps out, leaving Seth to struggle to a seated position. The aches that beset his arms and legs have spread to his entire body now. Any movement is met with misery. He takes a small bite of his dinner and gags, the reflex forcing him to spit it back out onto the plate. Unfortunately, this brings on a bout of coughing, upsetting his nausea, and prompting him to grab the basin as a precaution. Richie comes running back into the cage.  
“Seth!” Seth gestures excitedly with his free hand for his brother to remove the tray and Richie hurries to comply. The coughing fit subsides, and thankfully Seth does not need to use the basin. He hands it to Richie, who places it back on the table.  
“Are you OK?”  
“Yeah. Just peachy.”  
“Am I ever going to get a response from you that doesn't involve a smart ass answer?”  
“Probably not. You can take the food away. There's no way I'm going to be able to get that down.”  
“We'll try again tomorrow.”  
“Can I ask you for one more thing?”  
“That's why I'm here, Seth.”  
“My sheets are soaked. Do you mind changing them? I'm fucking freezing.”  
“Sure. Kate!”  
“Richie,” Seth says between clenched teeth, “No!” Any further protests are cut short when Kate rounds the corner and stops in the cage's doorway, her arms crossed over her chest. She avoids all eye contact with Seth.  
“Yes, Richie?”  
“Would you help me change the sheets, please?”  
“Sure, Richie.” Kate accentuates Richard's name to send the message to Seth that she is here to help Richie, not him. He receives it loud and clear. Richie unlocks the door and lets her in. Grabbing the driest blanket, Seth gives Kate a wide berth, and curls up into a chair while she and Richie strip his bed and remake it. Kate's previous attention to detail has fallen by the wayside as she unfurls the sheets and lets them fall where they may, the edges dragging on the floor. She slips on a clean pillowcase and fluffs it with a few strategic punches to the center and tosses it at Richie. Kate then snatches the laundry bag and leaves.

“Well, that wasn't awkward at all.”  
“You've only yourself to blame.”  
“Shut up, Richard.”

 

“Is he finally asleep?” asks Richie, setting down a bucket next to the chair Kate has pulled up beside the bed.  
“Yeah. He's been averaging forty minutes at a time, like clockwork. It's spooky.”  
“Did he eat the toast at all?”  
“He tried, but complained about the taste and then spit it out.” Kate leans over and pats Seth's forehead with a wash cloth dipped in cold water. The symptoms from the past twenty four hours have set in and are a constant presence. The new symptoms began within the past twelve hours. Stomach cramps and diarrhea have Seth running to the bathroom at least four times an hour. Richie no longer bothers locking the cage to help save precious time. Kate has borrowed a candle from Santanico with a strong fragrance to burn near the bed to help mask the peculiar scent that Seth says he smells, a putrescent odour that neither she or Richie can detect. He complains about hunger pains, but says food turns to a glue-like consistency in his mouth and when he tries to swallow, it aggravates his gag reflex, triggering his nausea. Hence the bucket. 

But what truly tests Kate's faith in a benevolent god are the tremors that have developed. At their best, they will only affect his hands. He'll clench them into fists hard enough for his nails to leave crescent marks in his palms then stretch his fingers out until his knuckles crack, repeating the process until he finds relief. At their worst, his body will writhe on the bed. Kate knew Seth would reach a point when he was no longer in any condition to dispute her help, but now that he has, she longs to hear his gruff voice telling her to get out or to hear him call her princess. Anything is preferable to the soft cries and moans the withdrawal draws out of him.

Kate rinses the wash cloth in the basin and holds it to Seth's forehead. When Seth is not asleep, the psychological effects influence his behaviour. He has trouble concentrating on any one topic. He becomes agitated and restless, pacing the floor of the cage or rocking back and forth on the bed. Eventually, the fatigue will settle in and he'll be forced to lie down, but sleep does not come easy and when it does, it's only in short increments.

He describes a foreboding feeling like being on the edge of an anxiety attack, a sense of impending doom, as if everything is out to get him; a sinister being suffused in the inanimate objects surrounding him, watching and listening. His rational mind knows this is not true, but the feeling haunts him nonetheless. Richie explains to Kate that it is the dramatic fluctuation in Seth's brain chemistry and will pass. Kate watches Seth's eyes shift in dream sleep, praying that whatever entity his mind has conjured has not followed him there. 

“Need a break?” Richie extends a mug of hot tea to Kate who readily accepts it with an emphatic thank you. Pursing her lips together, she blows the rising steam into wisps and whorls while Richie pulls up a chair next to hers. He sits down, long legs outstretched, his posture a tad slouched, and his hands clasped on his lap. His usual tailored trousers and designer shirt were long abandoned in favour of faded jeans and a black golf shirt after Seth missed the bucket on one occasion and hit Richie instead.  
“I'm good. This tea will do the trick.”  
“It's almost sunrise, Kate. You've been in and around this chair for almost twelve hours.”  
“I told you, I'm not going to leave him. Besides, this isn't the first time I've pulled an all-nighter with him. Sometimes he would go out drinking, and God knows what else, and not stumble in until morning.”  
“You would wait up for him?”  
“Not intentionally. I would go to bed, but I wouldn't be able to sleep until I knew he was safe.”  
“Kate?”  
“Yeah?” Do you love him? Why can't Richie get the words past his lips.  
“May I ask how you ended up with Seth?” She takes a deep breath and remains quiet, choosing to wipe the sweat from Seth's brow rather than answer. Richie begins to think he overstepped his boundaries until Kate sits back and opens up about her life in Mexico.

She begins at the Titty Twister. While he and Seth were trapped in the labyrinth, Kate had to deal with the discovery that Scott had been transformed into a culebra, his selfish attack on their dad, and the subsequent confrontation that drove him away. She fights to control the raw emotions that threaten to spill over before telling Richie in hitching breaths of her dad's final plea for his daughter to end his life. Richie doesn't know what to say. Standard condolences seem paltry and insulting. When Kate looks at him, eyes shining, he has all he can do to meet her gaze. If it wasn't for he and Seth, Kate would still have a family, still have a bright future ahead of her or, at the very least, a normal one. He scolds himself for not trying harder to get the keys from Seth, for not trying to secure their freedom, for being so caught up in Santanico's deceit that it blinded him from all else. He and Seth brought this down on her, on Jacob and Scott. Richie understands now why Seth chose a path of self-destruction. The guilt was too much to bear. All of it was too much.

“Kate, I'm...”  
“Sorry? Yeah. Everybody's sorry, but what's done is done.” Her words hit him harder than any physical blow could.  
“How did you get out of the Twister?”  
“Ranger Gonzalez. He got the keys for the RV and gave them to me.”  
“But you didn't leave. Why?”  
“I didn't know what to do or where to go. It was like I was in a fog. I just stood there in the parking lot. Then Seth walked out the front doors, alone, and I don't know what came over me. I suddenly couldn't bear the thought of being by myself. He was just about to leave when I asked him if he wanted some company. I thought for sure he was going to say no. When he didn't, I was so happy and terrified at the same time.” Richie chuckles.  
“Seth has that affect on people.”  
“What did I say about talking about me like I'm not in the room?” Seth rolls over onto his side to face them, the covers bundled around him from head to toe. Kate glances at her watch. Forty minutes. Spooky.  
“What is it with you two and me sleeping that compels you to strike up a conversation? Hmm?” Kate and Richie are quick with their apology.

“Sorry, Seth.” 

They have their routine down pat. Seth wakes from one of his short naps. Richie escorts him to the bathroom. While Seth uses the facilities, if need be, Richie will run a bath for him. If the symptoms are tolerable, he'll be able to soak for fifteen to twenty minutes, allowing the Jacuzzi jets to massage and relax his weary muscles. The times when he can barely stand, he'll let Richie sponge bathe the worst of the sweat from his skin before wrapping him in a bath sheet and hurrying him back to bed. Meanwhile, Kate will strip the bed and apply fresh linen. She'll replenish the ice water, refill the basin, set out a new stack of towels, and fold the clean laundry waiting in the basket by the supply table. Seth's tank and boxers lasted less than six hours that first day and since then Richie has been loaning his brother some of his clothes, but despite the additions to Seth's wardrobe, they are doing laundry on a daily basis. Once Kate has the cage the way she wants it, she goes and makes Seth some toast, whole grain, no butter. Though attempting to eat usually results in failure, they still try. Richie is confident that once they get past the three day mark, the symptoms will start to improve. He gives Seth a week, the most two, to recover. 

Kate prays that he is right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a challenge to say the least. Sooo much research to try and portray Seth's withdrawal accurately. I'm sure despite my best efforts I still missed crucial elements here and there. My apologies if I did.
> 
> Thank you to those who have left kudos and comments. A big shout out goes to SethKateFan, who has diligently left a comment after every chapter, making my muse very happy. Thank you!
> 
> And, as always, love and thanks to my Empress, who keeps me writing.


	5. Stories Old and New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Seth's rehabilitation comes to its conclusion. Richie and Kate catch up on the past three months.

Richie is correct in his assessment that Seth's symptoms will peak on the third day. By the afternoon of the fourth day, they begin their slow, but steady decline. Kate and Richie make moderate changes to their course of treatment to compensate for Seth's increased appetite and sleep schedule. He is able to keep a modicum of food down, so Richie went grocery shopping to give Seth some choice to his menu. His sleep pattern of forty minutes has extended to sixty, ninety if they are lucky, although the quality is still poor. Kate keeps her vigil by his bedside, except on the occasions when Richie relieves her to stretch her legs around the warehouse or have a cat nap in her bed. Santanico remains conveniently absent which Kate figures is for the best. What can the queen of culebras possibly contribute to Seth's recovery anyway? Wouldn't want her to risk breaking a nail. 

Richie and Kate take advantage of their down time when Seth is asleep to talk about anything and everything. She begins by confessing her complicity in Seth's addiction, how she was so terrified he would overdose, that she made herself responsible for his doses. Richie admits they have all committed sins that they deem unforgiveable. Whether they truly are or not, is not up to them. He tells Kate that she did what she had to do under extreme circumstances and, by doing so, kept Seth alive. 

Not all conversations are laden with guilt and remorse. Kate manages to breathe levity into what would otherwise be horrendous stories. For instance, how she and Seth earned a living while in Mexico, and how it took a great deal of convincing on her part to get him to include her on his robberies. How he drove her out into the desert with a crate of empty liquor bottles and a Walther PPK and taught her how to shoot, praising her that she was a natural. How he taught her how to pick a lock and use a bump key. How her favourite instruction from Seth was learning how to hot wire a car; the adrenaline rush of breaking into the vehicle, finding the correct wires to cut and splice while your heart pounded in your ears, and the exhilaration she felt when she and Seth skidded out of the parking lot in triumph, twin trails of dust rising in their wake. Richie smiles and teases her that she's been informally inducted into the brotherhood. There's no going back now. She laughs at his jest and, to his surprise, agrees with him. 

Kate tells of the appalling conditions of the motels they stayed in and how she never thought she would sleep on clean sheets again, how cockroaches are not indestructible if you strike them with enough force, and how thankful she is for having paid attention in high school Spanish class. She opens up about her desire to find Scott and how this desire has led her to research culebras and culebra culture, going so far as to befriend a young man named Rafa and visit one of la diosa's shrines. She explains how she became so enthralled by the world of the supernatural that she widened her studies outside of Mesoamerican mythology to include all world mythologies. She goes on to reveal to Richie her strong-held belief that creatures other than culebras also walk the Earth, disguised to blend in with humans. Richie's response is to chuckle, but Kate quickly admonishes him, asking him why is it so out of the realm of possibility. Three months ago, they were tossed into the hidden world of Mexican vampires. Why is it so fantastical to think there may be more beings out there? 

Richie concedes that she may be right. After all, who is he to tell her she's wrong.

For Richie's part, he fills her in with his own tales of being with Santanico, the endless stakeouts, the constant payouts for information, and the tragic ending of Seth and Richard Gecko befittng Thelma and Louise. He takes a personal turn and reveals why he left with Santanico, how she was the source of his visions all this time, how he believed she truly cared for him, but in the end only needed his mind and his skills to free her from the Twister and help her destroy Malvado. Kate wants to ask why he remains with her if he knows she is only using him, but refrains. Richard has his reasons. Staying with Santanico benefits him in some way, Kate is sure of it. 

 

As Seth's health continues to improve, his sleep cycle lengthens, and Kate and Richie's talks begin to stray more and more towards his grand plan. Richie originally wanted to wait until Seth was in a better physical and mental state, but decides that filling Kate in on the details might help sway his brother when the time comes. 

“While Santanico and I were staking out businesses connected to Malvado, we came across several different sources all saying the same thing; Malvado has acquired an ancient weapon capable of mass destruction.”  
“Do you have any idea what it is?”  
“No. The specifics of the weapon are unknown, but the logistics are extensive.”  
“What have you found out?”  
“It is being flown in from Iceland under the guise of an 'archaeological specimen' and transported to a secret facility owned by Malvado.”  
“From Iceland?”  
“Yeah, out of Keflavik International Airport. The name attached to the traveling orders is Dr. Genevieve Morin. I googled her. Her PhD is in medieval literature and folklore, not archaeology. She's on the faculty at the Centre for Medieval Studies at the University of Toronto. She's legit.”  
“What would a professor from Canada being doing with a culebra lord from Mexico?”  
“The extent of her involvement with Malvado remains unclear.” Kate breathes a deep sigh and aims for the heart of the matter.  
“Why are you doing this?  
“Why?”  
“Why get involved? Why not notify the other lords and let them deal with it? Why take on such a huge responsibility?  
“That's a lot of whys, Kate.” She raises an impatient eyebrow.  
“Because no one else will.” Richie stands and begins to pace in front of her.  
“We can't contact the lords. It's too risky. Santanico and I were able to accumulate a fair amount of information in a short time. If we were able to, I find it hard to believe that they have not been informed as well. And if they are, why has there been no action? Perhaps they are in collusion with him. Or, worse, they are perfectly aware and have turned a blind eye. If by some chance they know nothing and we approached them, there's no reason to believe they would intervene or even take us at our word. And if they did, how would they respond? With violence? With diplomancy? With stealth? Would Santanico and I inadvertantly spark a culebra war? Maybe Malvado has an accomplice within their ranks, one or more of the lords plotting along side him. And even if they do stop Malvado, what's to prevent them from using it themselves? There are too many unknowns.” Kate can see that Richie has given this a lot of thought, weighing the pros and cons, assessing the variables, and coming up with, what he feels, is the best solution. She understands why the lords cannot be contacted, but she is unsatisfied with his answer for his involvement. 

“Surely, there is someone else-” Richie stops pacing and faces Kate.  
“Who, Kate? Who?”  
“I don't know who, but someone other than you!”  
“I'm not doing this alone. I have Santanico's support.”  
“Just the two of you? That's not enough for a job like this.”  
“You sound like Uncle Eddie.”  
“Well, he's a smart man.”  
“With Eddie, Seth, and you, we can pull this off. I know it.”  
“What's in it for you, Richie?”  
“Peace on Earth?”  
“Try again.”  
“An empire. Malvado's empire.” Kate closes her eyes. There's the reason. She knew there had to be one. Why else would he remain with a woman who tortured him psychologically, lured him to his death, and finally broke his heart? 

“I help Santanico kill the emperor and in exchange, I get his throne. It's a fair exchange, don't you think?”  
“Richie-”  
“Look, Kate. Malvado's fate is sealed. Santanico won't stop until he's dead. Intercepting this weapon? It's just an extension of a plan that has already been set in motion. It's a straight-up heist, no different from any other job Seth and I have done.”  
“And once this weapon is in your possession, what do you plan to do with it?”  
“Destroy it.” Kate can't help but meet Richie's answer with a certain amount of skepticism. Love may have put him on his current path, but it's his ambition that has strengthened his resolve to remain on it depsite what, or who, is placed in his way. Who is to say that when such power is in his grasp that he will give it up so easily? Kate knows she is perhaps being too harsh. In the short amount of time she had been with him, she witnessed contradictory sides of Richard Gecko; a professional thief, an indiscriminate killer, a loving brother, a lost soul, and a fierce protector. Now he wishes to add culebra lord to his repertoire. Kate just needs to figure out which side of Richie he is showing her.

“And what if it can't be destroyed?”  
“There must be a way. There is always a way. We'll just have to find it.” Kate sits back, and crosses her arms over her chest. Looking up at Richie, her lips tilt into a smile. He furrows his brow and frowns in return.  
“What?” he asks.  
“I'm surprised, that's all. Richard Gecko, professional thief and boxman, now hero of the people.”  
“Funny.”  
“It's just that, I assumed the only other person you cared about, apart from yourself, was Seth. To hell with the rest.”  
“I care about Uncle Eddie. And you, Kate.” Her smile disappears behind an expression of solemnity as she reaches out to take Richie's hand.  
“I care about you too, Richie. Which is why this whole situation scares me. I don't want to see you get hurt, or worse.” Richie's fingers tighten around hers.  
“You have to trust me. Please. I know I've never given you a reason to, but I'd like to think that the past few days have worked somewhat in my favour. I'm not a complete asshole.” Kate can't help but give a hearty laugh loud enough to echo throughout the warehouse.  
“No, you're not,” she says, that warm, inviting smile returning to her face. He drops back down into the chair next to her and stares at the prone form of his sleeping brother.  
“I need Seth. I need you, Kate. Together we can do this. What do you say?” Richie turns to see her attention focused on Seth. Her smile has lost some of it's strength, but her eyes exude a gentleness and affection reserved for cooing babies, wedding vows, and true love. Richie would give anything to know what kind of thoughts have shaped such an expression. Whatever they may be, she is well and truly lost in them, oblivious to Richie's presence. He begins to wonder if she even heard his question and is preparing to repeat himself, when she gives him an answer.

“I can't speak for Seth, but whether he decides to join you or not, I will help you.”  
“Kate! I don't kn-”  
“But I have one condition.”  
“Name it.”  
“Help me find my brother. Help me find Scott.” Her face becomes an expressionless mask locking in any emotions that may try to break through. When it comes to Scott, there are many, thrashing and raw like a wounded animal bleeding and in pain as it gnaws its own limb to free itself from a hunter's trap. They rest periodically, overcome with exhaustion, but rear their heads and bare their teeth and resume the fight with renewed vigor. The only other person who could evoke such turbulence in her heart is Seth, but her heart beats a new rhythm when it comes to him rather than the ache that persists over Scott. 

When telling Richie of her trials in the labyrinth, Kate conveyed the regret and sorrow she immediately felt after her altercation with Scott and the vow she made to Jacob that she would not let their relationship remain broken and scarred. She would find her brother and reconcile. Richie stares at her, at her composed bearing, and feels a swell of respect and admiration for the young woman seated beside him. There is a peculiar feeling to her request, a sense of honour at being chosen to help her on such an important undertaking. After all she has been through, this is the least that Richie can do.

“I'll help you. When this job is done, and Malvado is defeated, I will help you locate Scott.” Kate's mask crumbles and she beams at him, pooled tears streaming down her cheeks, and releases her joy and relief with laughter. She launches herself at Richie and squeezes him in a bear hug to shame all bears. He returns her embrace and smiles. He reckons it has been a long time since she has felt this way. 

“Thank you, Richie! Thank you!”  
“Kate! Fuck! Keep it down!” Seth barks, his head emerging from the cover of his blankets, his eyes hazy with sleep. Before he notices or, even worse, makes a snide comment, Kate quickly disentangles herself from Richie and sits back in her chair.  
“I'm sorry, Seth. I'm just so happy! Richie has agreed to help me find Scott.”  
“Yeah? What's in it for him?”  
“That's unfair, brother.”  
“But I'm right, aren't I. What's in it for you?” Before Richie can reply, Kate comes to his defense.  
“I will help him steal the weapon.”  
“Like hell you will.” Seth sits up in bed, preparing to square off against his brother and to a lesser extent, Kate.  
“I'm perfectly capable of making my own decisions, Seth.”  
“I thought we agreed we would hear him out first?”  
“We?”  
“Yeah, we. Or is it every man for himself now?” Kate can't believe his gall. She's tired of Seth changing the status of their relationship to suit his mood or motives. Why should she feel guilty for putting her interests first for once? For three months, Seth's word was law. She deferred to his decisions because she believed he knew better. Her opinions were noted, but barely taken into account, and when they were, the credit was never hers. She put up with his ego and his mood swings and his double standards, all for the greater good. All for them. Why is it so hard for him to do the same? To put her desires first, especially now that they are back in the States and the Mexican agenda is a thing of the past.

Deep down, she knows why.

Scott is a culebra. In Seth's mind, he is a lost cause. Her desire to find him and make amends is a pointless venture. Kate should cut him loose and move on. That was his mantra while in Mexico, and it didn't just apply to Scott, but to the brother who would not be named. Culebras took away the person most precious to him. For Seth, they will always be the enemy. Even now, with Richie standing a couple of feet away from him, Seth doesn't see his brother, but a vampire. For Kate to take up Richie's banner, for her to want to seek out her own brother, is to side with the snakes. 

“You know how important it is for me to find Scott. Now I have a real chance at success. Why can't you be happy for me?”  
“Why? Because you have no idea what you're going to do once you come face to face with him. What if he tells you to fuck off? Hmm? Or, even worse, tries to turn you like he did your dad.” Mentioning Pastor Fuller is a low blow, but Seth needs Kate to see reason. Scott truly believed that the answer to their prayers was to turn her and Jacob. Who is to say his belief has changed? 

“Scott knows I would rather die than become a vampire. No offense, Richie, but I could never live that life.” He simply nods in reply.  
“He knew Jacob felt the same way, but that didn't stop him, did it? He still sunk his fangs into him.”  
“I know Scott. He'll at least hear me out. After that, well, I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.” Seth is quick to sneer at her reply.  
“You'll cross that bridge?”  
“That's right!” Kate shoots back, “Unlike you, I am prepared to do whatever I can to get my brother back!” The words are out of her mouth before she has a chance to consider their ramifications. Seth stares back at her, his face wiped blank of all expression. She looks at Richie to see his face turned away, his eyes cast down. 

Kate lets her attention roam heavenward to the steel beams that brace the roof of the warehouse as they are coloured black by dusk's deepening shadow. Her eyes follow the rigid lines crisscrossing their way from wall to wall, corner to corner. Silently, she offers up a frantic prayer pleading to saints and angels to make this entire conversation disappear, to erase the wounds her words inflicted, and to receive forgiveness for her folly, but the coming darkness holds no offerings of salvation. She has no other recourse than to remove herself from the room before she makes matters worse. She stands, takes a parting glance at the stunned pair, and turns towards the door. She pauses at the threshhold.

“I'm sorry. I'm so, _so _sorry.” Her footfalls can be barely heard as she departs. Left with an uneasy silence, the brothers comfort each other in the only way they know how.__

__“Nice going, Seth.”  
“Shut up, Richard.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the length of time that has passed since my last chapter. Real Life has really given me a kick in the gut and it has taken all these months to recover. Hopefully, now, you will see new chapters posted at regular intervals. Getting back into the swing of things, aka writing, is taking some time, but it's all coming back to me. Yay!


End file.
